


BBIWY

by Sealie



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was chatting with Kristen999 and this resulted....</p>
            </blockquote>





	BBIWY

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: gen  
> Warning: none spring to mind.  
> Comments: British English spelling, potty mouth  
> Spoilers: none  
> Beta: the brilliant and helpful Springwoof

**BBIWY**  
By Sealie 

 

BrLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre!

The alarm, if Danny had been sleeping in his bed, would have resulted in him clinging to the ceiling with his fingernails. As it was, he almost fell off his computer chair. The clamour was completely air-raid-siren-like in its intensity. 

Danny raced out of his office. It wasn’t the fire alarm, but its power demanded an immediate response. Chin, sprinting from his room, mirrored Danny’s path to the blaring computer table in the centre of their sanctum sanctorum. 

“Shut it off!” Danny yelled, hands going over his ears. 

Chin scanned the wildly flashing screen, hunting for information. Hand raised, as if he was in class trying to answer a question, he froze -- and then darted forward, slapping a precise spot on the large tablet screen. 

The cessation of noise brought palpable, skin-tingling relief. 

“Thank you!” Danny sagged. “What the hell was that? Armageddon? Are aliens about to land?” 

“I don’t know,” Chin said, breathing hard as he scanned the screen. “I didn’t programme it. I think that Jerry did.” 

“Jerry? Of course, it was Jerry!”

“It’s a surveillance programme.” Chin tapped danced his fingers over the screen, selecting element after element. “It’s some kind of remote monitoring for terrorist activity, linked to search terms. It’s picked up information on….”

“On what?” Danny asked, even if he was at Chin’s shoulder, and he could damn well see: Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA); USAMRIID at Fort Detrick; Biowarfare; advanced gene manipulation; aerosol phage deployment via air; Honolulu seasonal weather patterns, and the icing on the proverbial cake -- Weaponised Ebola.

“Holy Shit!” Danny gasped. The volume of information on the tablet was overwhelming. Jerry’s programme had taken over the entire screen. A panel in the top right corner had a map with a flashing red dot. Another panel showed lists and lists and lists of Google search terms. “Do we have a suspect?”

Doors banged, startling them both. Steve blew into the main office as if blowing into a Wild West saloon, intent on getting his man. 

“What’s the emergency? What’s the intel?” He held his cell phone clenched in his fist. 

“We’ve got a possible act of planned terrorism. Jerry has programmed our computers to collate search terms linking to likely terrorist behaviours in Hawaii.” Chin leaned over the table, knuckles white as he gripped the edges. “It’s a sophisticated trawler programme identifying focussed research, not random searches. In this case, weaponising Ebola. There are a whole suite of search terms and linked documents focussed on the potential effects of the disease and its treatment, plus resources available in Honolulu, and details about Tripler. They’ve even looked at street plans to determine how the modified phage would spread. This is serious, Steve.” 

“Do we have a suspect, or are they bouncing their research off proxies so we can’t trace them?” Steve asked intently. 

“No! It’s a curiously clean feed. I assume that they’re actually mirroring to deflect their real location,” Chin said intensely. “But I haven’t figured out if they’re ghosting. For all intents and purposes, it appears that they’re here in Honolulu. Which is why Jerry’s programme triggered.” 

Helpfully, Danny pointed at the top right hand corner of the screen where an x marked the spot in a suburb of Waikiki. 

“Huh,” Steve said. He leaned over the table. Slowly, he tugged on his bottom lip as he scanned the swath of information. “Huh.” 

“Huh?” Danny echoed. Where was the call to arms? Why weren’t they rushing to the garage? 

Steve dabbled through the multitude of panels, bringing the Google search term panel to the forefront. He set both hands on the box and stroked his hands apart, enlarging the data stream. The screen scrolled so fast that it made Danny feel a little nauseous. Steve scanned, eyes roving back and forth as he speed-read. 

“False alarm,” Steve said, straightening. “Jerry’s programme needs a little work.” 

“What!” Danny said indignantly, as he willed his racing heart to slow. “What? Ebola, Steve, weaponised Ebola! They are trying to figure out weaponised Ebola!” 

“Very tasteless given the current climate.” Steve shrugged one shoulder. “But Ebola offers the fear factor, and the emotional hit.” 

“Emotional hit?” Chin echoed. Danny was happy to see that Chin was equally perplexed. 

Steve flicked his fingers across the tablet screen and the search term/history page jumped to the standing monitor that was significantly easier to read. 

“Survival statistics, aftercare, Google Image search of an ICU, links to _The Walking Dead_ , _The Last Ship_ , and the film, _Battleship_.” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“And?” Danny said slowly. 

“They’re writing a story. And I’m guessing,” Steve said, “that it’s a work of Transformative Fiction.” 

“You what?” Danny demanded. 

“Fan fiction?” Chin said, mouth forming an ‘o’ of realisation.

“What the fuck is ‘Transformative Fiction’?” Danny asked, giving the words speech marks with his fingers. “Fan fiction?”

“You like a book, you like a television series, you like a movie,” Steve explained, “and you write stories about it.”

Danny turned that sentence sideways, backwards, and on its head. 

“Stories about a television series?” Danny clarified, because he was confused. 

“About the characters you like… love,” Steve said. “You write about their adventures and other … things?”

“Things?” Danny wondered on Steve’s suddenly furtive expression. 

“It’s very popular,” Chin added and actually flushed. “Malia was fond of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.” 

“Is this about porn?” Danny asked, staring at his fellow 50 members. 

“Hmmm, there’s some porn. Okay, there’s a lot --and when I say a lot, I mean a _lot_ \-- of porn.” Steve shrugged, phlegmatic. 

“Porn – porn?”

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean,” Steve said, expression segueing into his cat’s got the cream smirk. He suddenly grinned, bright and effervescent. “There are a lot of different types of stories. Porn -- Slash is only one part of it. Alternate universes. Action adventure. Science fiction. Romance. You name it; someone will have written about it.” 

“But the Ebola, and the DARPA, USAMRIID, Biowarfare, and… are they trying to get arrested?” Danny asked, because --

“It’s not illegal to research gene manipulation for a story,” Steve pointed out. “It is, however… Hmmm, we should probably tell Jerry to pull his search programme.” 

Chin nodded soberly. 

“How do you know this?” Danny demanded. It defied imagination. People were actively researching horrible things for stories. He stopped and stared at Steve. 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled. Danny connected dot one to dot two and then onto dot three. Research, internet monitoring, data sifting, government agencies -- NSA, Homeland Security, CIA -- hunting terrorists’ activities.

“Oh, my, god,” Danny said, “you were in Naval Intelligence. You monitored the internet as part of your missions! You had to read this stuff for work!” 

Steve didn’t confirm or deny.

The bastard. 

 

_fin_


End file.
